The Sheik and the Pregnant Bride (6 page)

“Then that is what I will order.”

A waiter appeared. He barely glanced at Maggie before bowing low to Qadir and thanking the prince for choosing the restaurant. A fast-paced conversation followed with wine chosen, entrées, salads and either appetizers or desserts picked. Maggie didn’t recognize the names, so she couldn’t be sure which.

The waiter left. Seconds later another man arrived with a bottle of white wine, along with a free-standing ice bucket. The wine was opened, tasted, pronounced excellent and poured. The second man left as quickly as the first.

“One can’t complain about the service,” Maggie murmured as Qadir lifted his glass. She took hold of hers and raised it, as well.

“To new beginnings,” he said. “Let us give them a chance.”

“A sneaky toast.” Still, she touched her glass to his, then took a sip.

The wine was nice. Light and maybe crisp. She didn’t really know the right terms. She knew she liked it and that she would probably faint if she knew how much it cost.

“Perhaps this will go more easily if we get to know each other better,” he said, looking at her over his glass. “Tell me about your family.”

“There’s not much to tell,” she admitted. “I’m an only child. My mom died when I was a baby. Dad always kept pictures of her around, but I don’t remember her. It was just the two of us.” She smiled. “I didn’t mind. I couldn’t miss what I’d never had and my father was great. He was one of the kindest men I’ve ever known. He took me with him everywhere, which is where I learned about cars. I grew up playing around them. I got in the way constantly, but then I learned how to help. It was a lot of fun. I learned math by helping with invoices. My dad made everything fun.”

“He sounds like a good man.”

“He was. He cared about people and loved his work. We lived in a typical middle-class neighborhood. The houses were all the same and the kids played together. I was never into dolls or playing house. I was out with the boys. That was fine when I was young, but became a problem later. I didn’t fit in either place.”

She still remembered the horrible summer when she’d started to get curves. As minor as they were, they still made her feel as if she didn’t fit in with the guys who had always been her friends.

“Feeling out of place made me hang out at the garage even more. It was the only place I felt comfortable.”

She took another sip of wine. “Things got a little better in high school. I started seeing boys as something other than friends and they didn’t seem to mind that I knew more about cars than they did. I never got really close to any of the girls, though.”

She’d tried a few times, but hadn’t known what to talk about. Makeup and clothes didn’t interest her and she’d been too shy to admit to her crushes—a conversation point that might have allowed her to bond with the female half of the population.

“I would think the girls were jealous,” Qadir said.

Maggie laughed. “I wish, but no. Then I started dating Jon. He lived next door. We’d been friends for years. One day I looked at him and everything was different. He asked me out and that was it. Being a couple allowed me to fit in. He was good to me. My dad liked him. We were together all through high school and while he went to college.”

“Your relationship ended recently?”

“A few months ago.”

Qadir studied her. “You are still in love with him.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m not,” Maggie said quickly, knowing it was true. “I miss him. He was my best friend forever. It was hard losing my dad, then Jon. I miss belonging and having someone to talk to. But I’m not in love with him.”

Which made her behavior that night even more unforgivable.

Stop thinking about it, she told herself. Especially here, with Qadir.

Qadir didn’t look convinced so she decided to change the subject. “What about your past?” she asked. “Yours must be more exciting, what with your being a prince and all. Don’t women throw themselves at you wherever you go? Doesn’t it get tricky, stepping over all those bodies?”

“It can be tiresome,” he admitted, his eyes bright with humor.

She leaned toward him. “I want details.”

“There aren’t any of interest.”

“No great love lurking in your past?” she asked before she remembered the mention of the mysterious woman the night she’d arrived.

Qadir picked up his wine, then put it down. “When I was very young—still in university—I met someone. Her name was Whitney.”

“Was she from here?”

“England. I went to university there, although I did some graduate work in the States.” He shrugged. “She was lovely. Smart, determined. She wanted to be a doctor. We fell in love. I brought her home to meet my father. I thought everything had gone well, but when we returned to England, she told me she couldn’t marry me. She wasn’t willing to give up her dreams to be my wife.” He glanced at Maggie. “There are…restrictions that come with being a member of the royal family.”

Made sense, she thought. “Whitney wouldn’t have been able to practice medicine.”

“Among other things. She’s now in her final year of residency,” he said. “She’s a pediatric neurosurgeon.”

Something that never would have happened if she’d married Qadir. “You still miss her.”

“No. I respect her decision and I wish her well. It was a long time ago. We’ve both moved on.”

Maggie was willing to believe he wasn’t pining for Whitney. Qadir didn’t seem the type to pine for anyone. But were there regrets?

Knowing about his past made him seem more like a regular guy, she thought. But was that a good thing or a bad one?

Qadir watched the play of emotions in Maggie’s eyes. She was trying to put Whitney in context. Perhaps he should not have told her, but there was something about Maggie he trusted.

She wasn’t like the usual women in his life. While she was certainly attractive, she lacked a sophistication he was used to. She didn’t play games. And she knew more about cars than any female he’d met.

He started to tell her that when he saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and saw a photographer easing along the far wall.

“An excellent opportunity,” he said as he reached for Maggie’s arm and pulled her toward him.

“What?”

Instead of answering, he kissed her. He had barely touched his mouth to hers when a flash went off. There was a flurry of activity as the restaurant staff raced for the photographer, no doubt to drag him outside. Qadir hoped they didn’t take away his camera.

Even though the event had ended, Qadir continued the kiss. He liked the feel of Maggie’s lips, the softness, the way she yielded. At times she was tough and in control, but now, she was all female—finding the true power of giving in.

He moved his hand to the back of her neck, where her long hair teased him. She smelled of soap and an elusive female essence that made him want to explore all of her. Need stirred.

He wanted to deepen the kiss. He wanted to taste her and claim her and hold her. He wanted to feel her body next to his, even if all they did was kiss. But this was not the time or the place. Reluctantly he withdrew.

Maggie blinked several times. “Was there a flash?”

“I saw a photographer approaching. I wanted to give him something worthwhile.”

She drew in a breath to steady her pinging nerves. “You did. Definitely.”

The next morning Maggie had barely pulled on her robe when she heard someone pounding on her door. She walked through the living room of her suite and pulled open the door.

Victoria stood in the hallway, one hand on her hip, the other shaking a newspaper. “Do you know what’s in here?” her friend said, pushing past her and walking into the room. “Do you have any idea?”

With that Victoria slapped the paper down on the dining room table.

There, in the middle, was a clear photograph of Qadir kissing a woman. At least she was pretty sure it was Qadir—his face wasn’t visible. But hers was. Even with her eyes closed, she was easy to recognize.

Victoria crossed her arms over her chest. “There has to be a heck of a story because the last time you and I talked, you were barely calling the prince by his first name.”

Maggie walked over to the coffeepot and turned it on. “It’s not what you think.”

“I don’t know what
to
think.”

While she and Qadir hadn’t actually discussed keeping their deal quiet, it was certainly part of the bargain. But Victoria was her only friend in El Deharia and Maggie had a feeling she was going to need to talk things over with someone.

She turned. “Qadir doesn’t want his father constantly bothering him with appropriate women, so he came up with a plan. I’m going to fake dating him for a couple of months, then we’re going to get fake engaged. We’ll have a big fight, I’ll go home to Aspen and he’ll go into mourning. That’s all it is. A business proposition. He’s paying me and to be honest, I can use the money.”

Victoria stared at her. “Fake dating?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is it a lot of money?”

Maggie grinned. “Oh, yeah.”

“Well, you go, girl.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No. I’m bitter. I should have thought of something like that for Nadim. At least then he would have to acknowledge I was alive. Fake dating, huh? You have to make him take you to some very cool places. He’s a prince. He knows the global hot spots. You can…” Victoria swore under her breath. “Do you realize what this means?”

“What?”

“With the pressure off Qadir, the king is going to try to find Nadim a suitable bride. Knowing Nadim, he’ll agree and that will be that.”

Maggie poured them each a cup of coffee. “You aren’t in love with him. Maybe you need to let the whole prince thing go.”

“Maybe. It’s just I’d be a really great princess.”

Maggie noticed her friend sounded more resigned than heartbroken. Maybe a distraction would help.

“I desperately need your help,” Maggie said. “Would you have time to go back to that consignment place? I have a fabulous wardrobe of T-shirts and nothing else. I don’t want to embarrass him. Qadir is going to be taking me places other than the garage.”

“Good point.” Victoria stared at her for a long time. “Sure, we can go shopping, but I have a question first.”

“Which is?”

“Are you sure about this? Have you thought it through?”

Maggie didn’t understand the question. “Are you saying Qadir might not want to pay me the amount he’s agreed to?”

“Not at all. I’m sure the money will be transferred with no problem. I was thinking more about not getting involved.”

With Qadir?

Maggie immediately thought about their brief but powerful kiss. He made her quiver with the lightest touch. She told herself it was nothing more than chemistry and circumstances. She would be fine.

“It’s a business deal.”

“So it seems. Just remember that princes aren’t like other men. Keep your heart safely protected.”

Maggie laughed. Her body she could worry about but her heart was safely out of reach. She’d been hurt too much to ever give it again.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Q
adir nodded to himself as he read the screen. All was well. Not that he expected less, but confirmation was always pleasant. He saved the information. His phone buzzed.

“Yes?”

“Sir, there is a Victoria McCallan to see you. She has no appointment but insists it’s very important.”

Qadir’s male assistant didn’t sound convinced of the fact. Qadir hesitated. Victoria was Nadim’s secretary. Why would she need to come here? Still, the woman had never bothered him before. He could afford to give her a few minutes of his time.

“Send her in.”

Seconds later an attractive blonde walked into his office. “Thank you for seeing me, Prince Qadir. I know you’re busy.”

He offered her a seat, but she shook her head. “I prefer to stand.”

He rose, as well. Interesting. “How may I assist you?”

Victoria drew in a breath. She was visibly nervous, although she seemed to be trying to hide her upset.

“I want to talk to you about Maggie,” she said. “I know about your deal.”

Any natural instinct to aid turned cynical as he eyed the woman. Maggie had innocently shared the information of their deal with someone she perceived to be friend. Now Victoria sought to use that information for herself. Typical.

His brother Kateb was right—too many women were out for what they could get.

He waited for her to continue.

“Maggie isn’t going to handle this well. She’s not girly. She doesn’t do the hair and makeup thing. She doesn’t have the right clothes.”

“But you do.” He wasn’t asking a question.

“What? Of course I do, but that’s not the point. She’s blunt and funny and sweet. She cares about people. Going out with you means getting mentioned in the papers. Maggie isn’t going to like that.”

Women didn’t often confuse Qadir, but he now found himself at a loss. “You are concerned about your friend?”

Victoria’s gaze narrowed. “Of course I care about my friend. Why else do you think I’m here?”

Her question hung in the air. He saw the exact moment she realized what he’d been thinking. Her back went stiff. Her mouth thinned.

He waited for her to start defending herself or even yelling at him. Instead she sucked in a breath and continued.

“My point is, Maggie is playing out of her league. You need to make sure she doesn’t get trashed in the papers. And don’t spring stuff on her. She’s never done anything like this. She’s going to have to figure it out while she goes. This is a tough time for her. She’s dealt with a lot of loss in the past few months.”

Victoria obviously knew about Maggie’s father. He wondered if she knew about the old boyfriend.

As he listened to Victoria talk he realized he had never considered Maggie’s feelings about the situation or how she would react to being thrown into his world. He’d seen her as someone he liked and enjoyed spending time with. He knew her to be honest, which made her the perfect candidate for his pretense. He should have considered whether his plan might hurt her in any way.

“She needs a makeover,” Victoria said.

Qadir stared at her. “A what?”

“A makeover. Maggie’s pretty, but she’s the country mouse. She needs a new wardrobe. And someone to teach her how to wear makeup and do her hair. Maggie’s proud and sweet. She doesn’t deserve anyone asking why someone like you would bother with someone like her.”

He didn’t like Victoria saying that. “No one who knew Maggie would ask that question.”

“I agree, but we’re not going to be dealing with people who know her, are we?”

As much as he hated to admit it, she had a point. “I will see to it.”

“Good. Look on the bright side. How often do you get to meet a beautiful woman who has no idea how great she is?”

Victoria was right, although he found himself hoping Maggie didn’t change too much through the process.

“There’s one other thing,” Victoria said as the nervousness returned.

He waited.

She raised her chin. “You can’t hurt her. She doesn’t deserve that. You can’t use your position or power against her.”

Annoyance filled him. “You challenge my integrity?”

“Among other things.”

“I am Prince Qadir of El Deharia. No one questions me.”

“Then this is going to be a bad day for you.”

“I can have you deported.”

“I don’t doubt that. Maggie is my friend and I don’t want you to hurt her.”

She trembled. He could see it. Yet she didn’t back down. She faced him, knowing she could lose her job and be sent home in disgrace.

His opinion of both women increased favorably. Victoria for being so willing to protect her friend and Maggie for inspiring such loyalty.

He wondered if Nadim had ever noticed the firebrand lurking behind Victoria’s blue eyes. It was his cousin’s loss if he had not.

Qadir walked around the desk and touched Victoria’s shoulder. “I will not hurt your friend. Maggie is doing me a favor. I have no intention of making her regret her decision to help. We have a business arrangement. Nothing more.”

Victoria shook her head. “That’s what she said. It always starts out sounding so sensible, right up until someone gets hurt.”

“But I don’t want to,” Maggie said, a distinct whine in her voice. “I don’t like shopping.”

Qadir laughed. “You are the first woman to ever say so.”

“I’m sure there are other women who don’t like to shop,” she muttered, wondering if she could fling herself out the limo’s rear door and survive the impact. She would probably end up with a few scars but they would be better than an afternoon spent shopping. She shuddered at the thought.

“If you are to spend time with me, you need an appropriate wardrobe,” he told her. “You came prepared to work on cars, not date a prince.”

She knew he was right. She didn’t have any clothes to wear to all the events he’d mentioned. She needed a decent wardrobe to be able to fit in. But shopping?

“Can’t we use the Internet?”

“No.”

“We could send them my measurements. Wouldn’t that work?”

“No.”

“But there—”

“No.”

She slumped back in her seat. “This really sucks.”

He laughed.

They pulled up in front of the exclusive boutique where she and Victoria had come before. Maggie had a feeling they weren’t going to be checking out the consignment room.

“Not here,” she told him. “It’s too expensive.”

He turned to her. “Maggie, do you know how much I’m worth?”

Not even a clue. “A lot?”

“Exactly.”

She eyed the store. She didn’t want to go in, but then she didn’t want to go to any store. “Okay, but they offer a palace discount. Make sure you use it.”

He was still laughing when they walked inside.

Last time she’d been here, she and Victoria had moved through the large boutique without being acknowledged by a single assistant. Now it seemed as if every employee descended.

“Prince Qadir, you are here. How lovely to see you.”

“Prince Qadir, as always you brighten our day.”

“How may we help you?”

“What can I show you?”

Maggie slipped behind him for protection.

Then a tall, elegant woman of indeterminate age glided toward him.

“Prince Qadir,” she said in a low, cultured voice. “You honor us with your presence.”

“Thank you, Ava.” He turned to Maggie. “This is Ava. She owns the store. She’ll be helping us today.”

Ava smiled at Maggie and took her hand. “Welcome, my dear.”

Maggie wanted to slink away. Ava was one of those perfect women who looked like she would never wear anything that didn’t match or had a stain or was sensible.

“Maggie is very special to me,” Qadir said. “But not much of a shopper. She needs a complete wardrobe. One that prepares her for anything. However, I will warn you—she will resist this process. I’m counting on you to convince her all is necessary.”

Ava smiled at Maggie. “My pleasure. Come, child. We have much to do. Let’s get started.”

Maggie felt like the fly being led away by the spider. She wanted to yell back at Qadir not to leave her alone with this woman, but she knew he wouldn’t take her seriously. He thought this was funny. Which was just like a man. Someone should pinch and poke him while forcing him to wear stupid clothes. Then they’d see how much
he
liked it.

Ava led her to a large dressing room where they both stood in front of the three-way mirror. Maggie looked and felt frumpy next to the other woman. She sighed.

“What would you say your style is?” Ava asked.

“I have no idea.”

“Casual, I’m thinking. You’re not the sort of person to ever really enjoy wearing a dress.” She turned Maggie so she was facing the mirror sideways. “Hmm. You have a perfectly good figure, but those jeans do nothing for you. I have a couple of styles in mind that will make you look spectacular.”

Maggie stared at her. “Jeans?”

Ava smiled. “Very expensive designer jeans, child. With the right accessories, a beautiful blouse and jacket, jeans can be worn many places. A casual dinner, a luncheon. Nothing with the king, of course.”

Ava walked around her. “While I would normally want to put one of Qadir’s young women in pretty dresses, that won’t do for you. You’ll just be uncomfortable. We’ll do pants as much as we can, then separates. You’re going to be stuck with dresses for evening wear, of course. There’s no getting around it.”

Maggie thought of the ball gown she’d worn and how it had made her feel. “Sometimes a dress is okay.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I can really wear jeans?”

Ava smiled. “I promise.”

It was kind of funny how at that moment Ava transformed from a spider into someone really, really nice.

Three hours and Maggie wasn’t sure how many outfits later, she found herself sitting in front of a mirror at a very upscale beauty salon. She knew the place had to be pricey because they’d offered her a latte, bottled water or cocktail before discussing her hair. No one had
ever
offered her a cocktail before cutting her hair. Of course the way her stomach was jumping, getting tipsy didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

“Not too short,” Qadir said as he stood behind the chair, next to the stylist—a short man with a ponytail. “I like her hair long.”

“I agree.” The stylist, whose name Maggie couldn’t remember, ran his hands through her hair. “She has a natural wave. I want to layer it so we can see the movement.”

Maggie wrinkled her nose. “Does anyone care that I hate my natural wave?” It was one of the reasons she wore her hair as long as she did and always tied it back. To hide the natural wave.

“Not really,” Qadir said with a smile, then bent down and kissed the side of her neck.

“But it’s
my
hair,” she murmured without much energy. She was too caught up in the tingles racing through her body.

It had been a nothing kind of kiss—the only kind Qadir seemed to give her. A light brush, a meaningless peck. Kisses for show. Kisses that stole her breath away and made her want to…to…to
something
. Kiss more. Kiss back. Beg. Instead she was forced to sit there quietly while they continued to discuss her hair.

In the end, they chose the layered style they’d talked about, along with subtle highlights.

“Could I be blond?” Maggie asked. “I’d like to be blond.”

Qadir turned the chair so she was facing him. “You are beautiful just as you are.”

Beautiful? He didn’t mean that, did he? “But I’m getting highlights. Going blond is practically the same.”

“Not to me.”

“Should we have the whole ‘this is my hair’ conversation again?”

“I will not be listening.”

He leaned in and kissed her. On the mouth. Firmly.

She told herself it was just so the people in the hair salon would gossip about them. She told herself it didn’t matter to her at all, one way or the other. It was just a kiss.

But it felt like a lot more.

His lips were warm and firm, taking and offering at the same time. He braced himself on the arms of the chair so they weren’t touching anywhere but their mouths. Still, that was enough to make her whole body sit up and take notice.

He moved his mouth back and forth before brushing her lower lip with his tongue.

Instinctively she parted for him. Anticipation made her tense. When he slid inside, she wanted to squirm closer, to take whatever he offered. Instead she lifted her hand to his shoulder and felt the strength of him.

His tongue touched hers. Sparks flew in every direction. He circled her as they began a dance so exciting, so erotic, she found it difficult to breathe.

She’d been kissed before hundreds of times. She’d made love. She’d experienced desire for a man. But nothing had prepared her for the hunger that consumed her whenever Qadir kissed her.

Wanting began low in her belly and spiraled out, filling every cell with a need that almost frightened her. She felt control slipping and worried she would beg him to take her right there, in the chair, in front of anyone who happened to be watching. She felt breathless and out of control. It was frightening…and yet she never wanted him to stop.

At last he pulled away. Something hot and bright burned in his dark eyes. She had a feeling he could see the same in her. Passion, she thought. Heady and unfamiliar, but more compelling than she’d ever thought possible.

“You are a surprise,” he murmured.

“I could say the same about you. Of course it could be a prince thing. You might take special classes and be taught techniques not known to mortal man.”

“I am mortal and there is no special training.”

Which meant it was just him. A slightly scary thought.

“I must go. The car will return and the driver will wait to take you back to the palace.”

“Okay.”

“I look forward to seeing your transformation this evening.”

“We’re doing something tonight?” Not that she minded.

“A play.”

“Right. You mentioned that. I should probably get a calendar.”

“I’ll have my assistant print out a schedule.”

That made her smile. “I’ve never dated by schedule before. Maybe he should include suggestions on what I should wear. Formal, informal, strictly casual.”